a/n: Includes: Renly(23)/Arya(14), graphic, underage, consensual.
Enjoy!

Summary: Renly has found the perfect woman to suit all his needs and desires and he knows that he can give her all that she wants as well.

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One-Shot: —
The Perfect Arrangement

Renly was a different kind of man. He had different tastes, ones that were better kept to one's self. He was one-twenty of age and had yet to marry. He had no children, therefore no heir to his fortune. Whispers were already spreading of his bachelor state, he needed to find a wife—and soon, lest the absence further the commoners beliefs.

He discovered an answer to his—not problem—more annoyance—when his eldest brother and King, Robert, made him accompany his caravan to Winterfell in the North to visit his beloved Eddard Stark. Renly dreaded going to that foul place, though with castle, was like a barn compared to King's Landing and his own beloved Storm's End. He didn't see why he was needed. Sure, he was Robert's brother and part of his counsel, but what could he be needed in Winterfell for? What business of it was his when Robert just wanted to play hunter with his best friend? He knew his brother just wanted to lord his power over him, it was always a past time that rankled the youngest when he was younger. Now Renly was better able to brush the feelings aside, he had more better things to focus on. Robert was King, and Kings did as they liked.

It took a week to get to Winterfell from King's Landing, and Renly lounged in his own carriage, wondering what he was supposed to do at the back of the beyond. He sighed, they were to be here for a week's time. He couldn't wait.

When they arrived at the castle, they were greeted by the all the Starks and the household inside the gates. Pleasantries supervened, and Robert left with Lord Eddard down to the crypts to visit the late Lyanna; Reny was too young to remember the Stark—which left him to his own devices until the feast convened in the Great Hall as was expected.

He wandered through the castle, which seemed plan in comparison to King's Landing, but more homely, with a lot of mud and not cobblestone. Every time he passed a peasant they'd bow and murmur his name and he was forced to smiled and nod. He wanted to be back at Storm's End, but because he was on the King's counsel, had to stay at King's Landing, which he found completely unfair as Stannis was aloud leave to Dragonstone. He would not go to the whorehouse as any man might, he found those places distasteful and completely out of taste with his likings. But he heard a thwacking and grunting as he transversed an alley and bored, followed the sound to a small, abandoned, outer courtyard as the staff was preparing for the feast.

He stayed concealed in the shadows of the archway, the dark courtyard lit by spaced torches. There was a boy, a small boy, not more than twelve name days in brown breaches and a grey wool shirt with a wooden sword in hand. He had long dark hair, loose around his narrow shoulders; it flew as he hacked at a wooden post, grunting and gasping with exertion.

Renly watched the boy in profile a little longer, watching how he moved, a stable boy most like and an amateur swordsman at that, but there was something there nonetheless, a potential. The flickering flames across his features; he had big eyes, a round chin, sharp nose and pouty lips Renly was sure. He was a handsome boy, a pretty boy he thought, with narrow hips.

"Mm," Renly wondered, dreaming as the boy grunted, swinging at the post with sword held in both hands.

Gold eyes flashed in the darkness. The boy turned around suddenly, sword held ready as he looked into darkness with narrowed grey eyes, wary, but Renly was already gone. If he'd stayed a moment longer, he would have realized that this boy was not a boy at all, but a princess.

Xx

The Great Hall was packed. At the head table sat the King with Renly on his left side and Lord Eddard on his right with Lady Catelyn next him. At a table beneath to them, sat the Stark children—the true five. Robb, the eldest son. Sansa, the eldest daughter, but a woman. The two youngest sons, Bran and Rickon. And the middle child, youngest daughter, Arya.

After toasts were made, thanks given and returned, the music started and so did the feast. It was then that Renly, as he gazed around the gathering through the smoke, that his eyes kept drawing back to the Stark's youngest daughter. After finally paying attention, peered at her curiously over his wine cup. She must've felt his heavy gaze because she turned to look at him with narrowed grey eyes. He choked a little as he realized what kept drawing his gaze. His stare sliced through the girl, twelve name days old, narrowed shouldered and hipped in her grey-blue dress, big eyes, round chin, sharp nose, long dark hair braided and looped about her head—the boy he'd spied in the courtyard practising with wooden sword was not a boy at all, but a girl—and not just a girl, but a princess of House Stark.

She still gazed at him steadily as he sat back in his chair, thoughts going through his brain in rapid fire as his royal brother laughed loudly next to him.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself.

She was as flat-chested as a boy, unlike her sister who was but a year older and had the body of a grown woman (with which was promised to his spoiled brat of a nephew). Renly knew that Arya's bosom was not like to get much bigger than where it was, much to his pleasing. She was perfect. A girl who did not look like a girl, but a boy. A girl who did not act like a girl, but a boy. A girl who was like a boy, but still possessed what a woman needed for her most common function—bearing offspring for men.

It came to Renly all at once, the solution to his every problem. He must start planning immediately.

Xx

After the feast he went to his guest bedchamber and thought on his plan all through the night, running out the knots. This needed to be perfect. He would have to speak to his brother about it first, and only then if he agreed, would they convene with Lord Eddard about the matter. But he knew that even if all of that went through without a hindrance, he needed to get the girl Arya in agreement with him because he knew her father wouldn't allow it unless his daughter was the one to accept. Renly had six more sunrises to do just that.

The next two days he'd observe her, find out her wants and desires, to find out what he needed to give her in order to get what he wanted. But as his eyes slipped closed, pulled under by tiredness, he was confident that he already knew just that after glimpsing her in the dark courtyard.

Xx

"Hey, boy!" Renly called, finally finding the girl alone after watching her for the past two days, gathering just a bit more information.

The kid stopped and spun around. "I am not a boy!"

Renly felt the smirk at the corner of his lips as he looked down at the girl. "No, you are not." He agreed, an almost longing in his voice. "With no respect either."

"My Lord," she ground out, still glaring.

"A little defiance is always good though."

"Is there something you wanted... My Lord?"

He gazed into her grey eyes for a long moment. He knew straight off that she was cleaver, very cleaver, more so than her elder sister. She could think for herself, knew what she wanted, and Renly was going to give it her.

"What is it that you want, Arya? What is it that you truly desire?" He wondered softly, she listened to him suspiciously. He had purposefully called her by just her first name, every time some called her lady he could see the muscle in her jaw clench. "You're not homely like your dear sister. You'd rather wield a sword than a needle—I know this because I saw you in the courtyard earlier—" her lip twitched ever so slightly, "The outdoors instead of a tower room. What would you say if I could give you all that you desired?"

"I'd say you're a liar." She said bluntly, done with My Lord's for now. She'd known someone was there last night, and this proved it. She'd felt his heavy gaze when they'd been in the Great Hall two nights ago. And these past two days had felt it on her still around the castle; he'd stayed here while her father and the King with some bannermen had gone hunting in the Wolfswood.

"Name something." He challenged.

Her grey eyes narrowed and her chin lifted, her fists clenching at her sides. She didn't want to, but she had to, needed to and she cursed that spark in his hazel-green eyes because he knew this about her.

"Your mother despises your wants. Your father indulges you—for now—but for how much longer? You know this, you sense it. Name something," he repeated, bending towards her somewhat, his hands resting casually on his scabbard belt.

She exhaled harshly; she knew what she wanted, desired in her heart. She couldn't lie either, he'd been watching her, he knew. "To swing a sword, a real sword of steel, not wood." She said quietly.

"What else?"

"To fire a bow—I'm already a better shot than Bran." She said, proud of this fact. She continued, unable to help herself. "To ride horse, actually ride, not got for a walk in the afternoon. To be with Nymeria all I like, out of the castle. To fire a bow and not be in the shadows."

"I am not adverse of any of these things as most every man in Westeros. I have a woman in my Rainbow Guard. She's as good with a sword as any man. She rides like any man. She wears armour like any man. I trust her with my life as the rest of my men in my under me." Renly told her; though he was using the fact that Brienne was in his Rainbow Guard to his advantage, all of those things were the truth—she'd earned her place in his Guard after beating its commander. He could see the flick of distant hope in her grey eyes before she could seal it away.

"Why would you do these things? What could you possibly want me for?"

Her guard was thrown back up, but he expected nothing less. He knew from the beginning he would have to convince her, dangle her wants in front of her and hope that she bit.

"I would have you as my wife."

Her intake up breath was audible down the covered bridged and she tensed right up like a taunt rope. He watched silent as anger and despair flashed through her eyes.

The catch, she had been waiting for it, dreading it. It was what she despaired over most in her life. Being wed to a stranger, sent off to a strange place alone, and doing all the things that she currently hated in her life—like the loathsome needle work. Would it be worth it? she wondered.

She always listened to Maester Luwin's lessons extra careful, it was one of the favourite parts of her day. She especially like hearing about the dragons. She went over what she knew about the man in front of her. He was a Baratheon, the youngest brother to King Robert, Lord over Storm's End in the South—home to the Baratheon's. He was aged one-twenty, and was a single man yet. His House was a powerful one in the south next to the Lannisters—the prancing stag crowned in gold. Though she was young, even she could recognize a handsome man when she saw one, a fit man, a Lord—though none would be greater in her eyes than her father. Would bedding this man be such a bad thing? It could be worse, she could be forced to wed that little shit Prince Joffrey like Sansa.

Arya knew that it was only a matter of time before her father put his foot down on her 'playing' as mother put it, and passed her on to a man like he had Sansa, even though Joffrey was the same age as Robb and Jon. She would be made to act as a Lady for the rest of her life, stay in the castle, wear royal gowns, she'd just be another Sansa in the world. She wasn't meant to be like that, she couldn't live like that. If what Lord Renly told her was true, and she had heard about his female Rainbow Guard Knight, then she wouldn't be completely crushed into the mould of Lady—she could yet live as she wished.

She looked up at the man steadily, she still didn't know what he could truly want from her, his true motive, but she was sure to find out soon enough when she wed him—because then death would be the only thing to part them.

"I would marry you, Lord Renly," she said, "On the source that you may keep that promise to me."

A pleased smiled spread across his lips. He laid a hand flat on his chest clad in a green velvet doublet, over his beating heart. "You tell me, and if it is within my power as Lord of Storm's End, brother to the King, Counsel of the King, I will grant it for you—as you will do for me, Lady Arya."

"What would be expected of me?"

"We would have to wed, and you come back with me to King's Landing, but be known as Lady Arya of Storm's End. You would bear my children, and stand at my side when needed. But when you are not, you may do as you wish. You can hunt and ride and swing a sword in a real fight. You would be free to pursue your likes, but it would be your duty to know all a Lady does."

Arya's shoulder's squared. "Alright. I accept your proposal for marriage, Lord Renly." She told him solemnly. "You have my word."

"As you have mine." He nodded deeply to her, then a grin lit up his face. "Now all I have to do is convince the King of this," if it was the King's will, then Lord Eddard would have no choice but to allow it.

Arya silently nodded.

He briefly put his hand on her narrow shoulder before he left down that tunnel with a swish of his satin cloak trimmed in vair. It hadn't been soft like a girl's shoulder was supposed to be, but firm like that of a boy's. Renly felt a shiver at all the possibilities.

Xx

Renly approached his royal brother in his bedchamber's after a long hunt in Winterfell's Wolfswood. His lust for blood briefly sated, his belly gorged on wine drunk during the rummage.

After knocking, he announced himself through the door, and Robert called him in. Renly entered to find his brother sitting at the edge of the bed in nothing but his underclothes, and hid the grimace.

"My King," Renly bowed his head.

Robert sneered as he gulped from a cup of more wine. "So proper, brother. What is it that you want? What could be so fucking important that you would interrupt my post hunting climax of a sheathing myself between a woman's legs?"

Renly stared into his brother's glassy-eyes. There was no point in trying to season his words, not when the King was in this kind of mood. He just hoped that after a good hunt, he was feeling generous. "I would make a marriage proposal, brother."

"Oh-ho-ho! What whore did you bed with with such a tight cunt, brother, that would warrant a proposal?" Robert roared with laughter.

"No whore, royal brother. A girl of this House,"

That stopped Robert's laughter. "What girl? The red-haired girl is already to wed my son."

"Not her. The other. Lady Arya."

"What other?

"Lord Eddard Stark's youngest daughter, the dark-haired girl." Renly shouldn't be surprised that his drunkard brother wouldn't know his best-friend's children proper, let alone their names.

"Why?"

Renly took a deep breath, and prayed. "I am a man and I am yet to be wed. This would bound our Houses firmer together. Give you and the family Baratheon a firmer hold in the North. The Baratheon blood with grow ever stronger, to be bound with two Stark offspring." At least any offspring born from Arya would be true Baratheon blood—unlike that of the incestuous made Joffrey, Renly thought silently.

Robert slammed his cup on the table next to him, slopping wine from the cut as he grunted to his feet. Renly was on guard as he brother came over to him, he didn't seem happy. But then a grin spread across his drunken features and he look the younger man in his arms, crushing him. Renly wheezed for breath at the attention, but had to suffer through it as Robert swung him around like he was a child before setting him down.

Slapping his shoulders, the King laughter heartily. "That's the smartest thing I've ever heard from your pretty mouth, brother!"

Renly chuckled as well, wondering if that had been an insult, knowing his brother, it probably was, but he took it silently like he always did because his brother was giving him what he wanted for once.

"At supper tonight, I shall tell Ned the great news. House Baratheon and Stark to be bound in marriage and blood twice!"

Xx

Next Renly saw of Arya, was only in brief passing. He gave her a nod, subtly taping his nose to let the girl know that things were on. The next time he saw her after was seated at the table in the Stark family dinning room, her jaw set firm.

Everything was normal—or as normal as supper might be with the King attending, only in name though, if you'd never meet the man and knew he was king, one would think he was raised in a herd of wild hogs.

And then with as much forewarning and tact of a bull, Robert informed Lord Eddard that he was to be losing another and last of his daughters—one minute talking about the-fucking-bastard-cunt-of-a-hog that they had hunted that morning, to Lord-Renly's-to-marry-your-other-daughter-Ned!

The table went quiet. Lady Catelyn was disquiet and pale as she looked from Robert to Ned to Arya to Renly and back again. Arya's hand clenched around her fork and she stared steadily down at her plate. Sansa was wide-eyed and incredulous; the idiot girl thought herself important and special for being chosen to marry Joffrey, and here was her 'rotten sister' getting a Lord of her own. The eldest trueborn and bastard sons were frozen. And there was a flare of anger in the calm-set of Lord Eddard's expression—a forced calm.

"It'll be great, old boy!" Robert slapped the other man on the back. "Our Houses banded together twice, just as it should have been with Lyanna and me."

"After dinner I would like to speak in my solar?" Lord Eddard said tightly, shooting a glare over to Renly who was collected and unruffled as ever. "With Lord Renly as well,"

"Of course, Ned. Of course!"

The rest of the meal was quiet, the air around the table charged with multiple emotions with different potency.

Xx

The three men convened to Lord Eddard's solar, warmed from the cool night by the fire in the hearth. Robert took Lord Eddard's seat behind the desk, Renly stayed standing, leaning next to the hearth. Ned stayed standing as well.

"I thought you came to Winterfell for a pleasure visit, My King." Lord Eddard said.

"Call me by my name, Ned." Robert told him. "And say what you mean."

His expression tightened. "Where did this come from? This marriage proposal?" He demanded.

"Renly brought it up," Robert said. "And I agree,"

Lord Eddard turned to Renly. "You?!

Renly straightened from the hearth. "Yes, Lord Eddard. It was my idea. I am in need of a wife and your daughter is strong, as is her blood. It would be beneficial for our two Houses to be bound stronger in blood, our children will be strong."

"She is but a child herself!" He argued. "Please, Robert, I beg of you! You are already taking one daughter, do not steal away another. Arya is but a girl!" Lord Eddard said.

"Girl's have married younger than her." Robert told him gruffly.

"She would never agree to it,"

"The girl has no say in the matter," neither do you was silently implied. He sighed. "If it will help calm you, then bring your daughter here and we will hear what she has to say." Robert said.

Lord Eddard went to the door, relieved, and told the steward waiting outside to fetch Arya. A few minutes later, the girl entered the solar nervously but determined.

Lord Eddard knelt in front of his youngest, and favoured daughter, his hands on her shoulders as he looked into the grey eyes that she had taken from him. "Arya, sweetheart. You don't have to do this if you do not wish it."

Arya swallowed. "I know, father." She glanced at Renly for a long moment before looking back to her father. "It's alright, I will marry Lord Renly."

H was shocked. "What? Arya—"

"See, Ned, even your daughter sees the sense!" Robert cried, jumping to his feet and clapping his hands. "So it's settled. Your eldest daughter with marry my eldest son, and your youngest daughter shall marry my youngest brother! Of course, they would be married after Joffrey and your girl, as he is the Prince of this Realm."

Lord Eddard climbed to his feet, and looked over at Renly, his look was anything but happy like Robert's. But it was settled, the King's will ruled, and he willed this marriage. If Lord Eddard were to refuse, he would be deemed traitor to the King, and executer, and Arya would be taken as Renly's wife anyways.

In three days, the King would be leaving Winterfell with three Stark's in two, the two daughters and the Lord of Winterfell as well as the new Hand of the King—if he couldn't refuse his daughters' marriages, what chance had he the King's Hand?

Xx

"You have bleed into womanhood?" Renly asked Arya directly. The two were in their bedchamber at Storm's End.

He saw her gaze flickered away for the briefest of moments, and he wondered if she was going to lie, and wondered if he would know it or not.

"Yes," she replied finally, and he believed her. She had bleed a year before Sansa, two month's prior to Renly's first visit to Winterfell two-years beforehand.

Sansa had bleed that same year when she went South back to King's Landing when the King departed from his week's visit to Winterfell, and had a huge ceremony when she wed Joffrey a year later. Renly and Arya had a smaller ceremony at Storm's End a year after that, never to outdo the Prince and New Princess.

Arya had stayed at Renly's side at King's Landing, learning her needlework and wifely duties, ever the committed future Lady of Storm's Ends, and as promised Renly gave her a dancing master from Braavos. When their wedding date came, they were allowed the ceremony back at Storm's End.

And here they were, the lit hearth lighting and lending their bedchamber warmth. After nearly two years, it was finally time to consummate their deal, this was the very moment that Renly had been waiting on.

"Take off you dress," he murmured, sitting on the edge of their bed while the fourteen-year-old stood in front of him in her white marriage gown.

Arya was silent, her grey eyes narrowed as she slipped the gown from her shoulders, over her narrow hips and let it puddle around her feet, leaving herself completely naked.

This had been one of the moments that she had been dreading most about their deal, laying with this man. These past two years of being at her future husband's side, she had learned a few things about the youngest Baratheon. The big truth of it all, the reason that he came to her with this proposal was because he disliked women, he wasn't attracted to their softness and curves—Renly was into boys, men. Arya had a boy's personality and will; she acted more male than female unless she needed to be a Lady for Reny; she was a handsome girl or more a pretty boy, and her body was more boyish than girlish, even at fourteen.

Renly took his new wife in with wide hazel-green eyes and felt a stir in his cock that he had never felt before at the sight of a naked woman. She was everything that he imagined her to be, everything that he had hoped. She wasn't soft like a girl, her small body was toned with muscle from all the male activities that he gifted her the privilege of. Her shoulders were straight and narrow, her waist was slim, her breasts were hardly discernable and would disappear completely were she to lay flat. She could be but a boy if her legs were filled with a hanging cock instead of a plain patch of dark hair—but he felt his cock become aroused for her anyways.

Silently he stood up and stripped from his jerkin, doublet and undershirt, his boots and breaches and lastly his underclothes and let her see him for what he was, a man. And he took the girl to bed like he would a boy.

She lay on the bed as he explored her everywhere, touching her body that was straight not curved, hard not soft. He was right about her breasts, there were none when she lay—pleased, he took each of her nipples between his lips and could feel the growl through her chest to his lips, the feeling when straight to his cock. His hand trailed down her ribs, her hip and between the warmth in her legs; it didn't turn him off as much as he thought it would have as he pushed his finger into her opening and she grunted in a flare of pain. He didn't remove his finger, but pumped it, preparing her like he would a man. Soon, he entered another finger, and them another, loosening her tight cunt so that when he put his cock inside of her, she wouldn't tear.

He pumped his cock to full hardness as he looked down at her and it didn't take from his arousel. He'd never been turned on by a woman before, only ever when he was a small child and hadn't known himself any better, but now a naked woman was as unappealing as watching a man fuck his livestock, but Arya never incited that feeling in him, quite the opposite—since the moment that he laid eyes on her two years back in that Winterfell courtyard practicing with a sword and thought her boy, even afterward finding out she was actually a girl. It turned Renly especially hot when he watched her practice her swordplay with the dancing master he had found for her and she wore men's breaches and a simple wool shirt, hearing the grunts that she made that sounded especially boyish.

When he entered her, she was hot and tight and enveloped his hard cock completely. He looked into her narrowed grey eyes as he started to pump inside of her, slow at first to let her adjust to his size, and then faster so. She felt like a man beneath her, like no man he'd ever felt before. Her arms wrapped around him, she accepted the pain, grunting, moaning as the pain started to be overcome by pleasure in the pit of her stomach.

Soon he was jerking inside of her, coming hot like fire, filling up her cavity. He pumped inside of her a few more times, and she arched into him, crying out as well, he was shocked as she came against his cock. He had heard of those rare women who could come like a man, and he happened to have married one of them. He crushed his lips to her for a moment in his glee before he pulled himself out of her lay naked on the bed beside her.

He poored two cups of wine from the flagon on the table next to him on the bed, and handed her a cup. They drank silently for half an hour more before Renly drew himself hard again. He set the empty cups aside and made her turn over on her hands and knees. She didn't protest, her cunt still aching as he did the same thing to her arse. It hurt all the same but she didn't protest, she was his wife, his Lady of Storm's End, a Baratheon now and she must obey—and she did and she would. When his hard cock entered her ring of muscle, she choked back the cry of pain because as he held her hips and started to thrust into her, she quickly started to feel pleasure. And found herself moaning, pushing back against him, taking him deep, feeling his balls slap against the back of her thighs.

He came inside her, hot and heavy as she clenched around him, clutching her to his chest, his hand grasping her barely existent breast, calling out her name in the back of her neck. They collapsed to the bad together on their sides, Renly still inside of her, his hips still jerking as he rode through his second orgasm within the hour, caressing her slim body to his muscular one. Girl she may be, but better than any man he had had the pleasure of fucking.

She didn't love him, she didn't have to. She might eventually, like her parents had, but she knew he felt the same. She was lucky to be married to man like Renly than a boy like Joffrey. Having him like her because of her boyishness mattered not to her, neither did his sexual preference in bed if she got all that she wanted in return. Their marriage benefited the both of them—Arya could do as she please, be who she pleased, and Renly would get the heirs that he needed (with a woman that he could fuck).

For two people who would have eventually crashed and burned alone, their prefect arrangement made it so that they could thrive together. No regrets, not today or any other day.

-the end-

********Game/of/Thrones********

Note:

Hey, so what did you think of Renarya? Renly is my favourite Baratheon and it sucked completely when they killed him off, and Arya is my favourite Stark and I love the both of them together—which as you know is lacking because Renly is into men. Please give me your thoughts; did you love this coupling as much as I do, or do you hate it completely? Don't be afraid to tell me!

Thanks for Reading!

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